Bright Stream's Story
by javu
Summary: A one-shot of what happens to Bright Stream after the eagles take her away. (Hint: she lives!) This contains spoilers and should not be read before reading Warrior Cats: Dawn of the Clans: The Sun Trail.


The eagles carried Bright Stream for only a few more minutes, but to Bright Stream it seemed like days had passed. Eventually, the eagle had arrived at its nest, a large branch-like structure that five or so cats could easily fit. The eagle released its talons from her haunches with a "kakaaw!" Bright Stream's wails turned into a whimper as the other eagles landed at the nest, their beady eyes scrutinizing her. Her hind legs were bleeding and the muscle tissue was badly torn internally; yet, she managed to stand on shaky legs. Oh why hadn't she stayed at the cave?

One of the eagles lowered his head to take a peck out of her but another eagle pecked him, clearly not content with the other eating his food. And before Bright Stream really knew what was happening, all the eagles were squabbling over her with one another.

Bright Stream looked about her. There was no ledge that she could flee onto. But there was one way to escape being eaten alive. As she took a step forward to the edge of the nest, she barely registered two of the eagles violently stabbing to death the third. She looked down and saw a huge drop with a few rocks and trees at the bottom of the mountain. She took a deep breath and with a quick thought about Clear Sky, she jumped off the face of the cliff.

The first thing Bright Stream remembered was a light hue with darker figures moving in and out of focus. The second thing she remembered was an excruciating pain shooting up from her legs.

Days later, she opened her eyes and let out a hoarse mew in surprise and pain. She blinked a few times and took in her surroundings. She was in some sort of dark cave, except that it didn't smell like a cave. She was lying on something incredibly soft. She eventually became aware that both legs on her left side were probably broken. She felt as if she could yowl as loud as she possibly could and still not express the pain she felt, but she held it in. There were also twigs strapped around her legs, which was troublesome. She took a sniff and realized that other cats had been around – and frequently.

Just as she had come to that realization, she heard a cat meow, "Oh, good. You're awake. About time too." Bright Stream tried to sit up to see the speaker, but they said, "No no. You just stay there. You won't be moving for a while yet."

"Who are you?" whispered Bright Stream.

"I'm Blossom," said the cat, who stepped in front of Bright Stream. She was an older, fluffy, cream-colored cat with a kind face that Bright Stream instantly trusted. "My mate, Slate, saw you fall. He thought you would be buzzardfood for sure, but you weren't! He got me and Misty – the other cat that lives here – and the three of us dragged you back here and got you patched up. But you shouldn't move for a while yet." She paused, letting what she said sink in. Bright Stream took a moment to process what she said; her mind was moving quite slowly. "Can you feel your legs?" Blossom asked timidly.

"Oh, yes," Bright Stream answered, grimacing in pain.

"Eat these," requested Blossom, and she pulled out some black seeds that were tucked in a leaf. Bright Stream hesitated just long enough for Blossom to notice. "They'll take the pain away and make you sleep for a while." Bright Stream licked them up.

"Do you think you can eat anything?" asked Blossom. Bright Stream nodded, suddenly aware of how hungry she was. Blossom left the cave toward a shaft of light, only to return a moment later with a mouse. Bright Stream finished the mouse off, and by the time she had finished, began to feel quite sleepy. The last thing she remembered was the soothing strokes of Blossom's tongue over her fur as she drifted off to sleep.

The next morning Bright Stream woke up much easier. She was keenly aware of soft footsteps above her, and she spared the thought of what it was. Once again, she attempted to stand but to no avail. She let out a sigh. She then began to groom herself as best she could, but realized that her coat was well groomed. _They must have kept me groomed…_

"Hungry?" called Blossom from the doorway.

"Oh, yes!" exclaimed Bright Stream.

Blossom brought over three mice and set them down in front of Bright Stream.

"I—I don't feel right taking your food," Bright Stream admitted.

"Why ever for?" chimed Blossom.

"I didn't catch it, or even try to catch anything. Not like I could—"

"No use thinking like that," meowed Blossom. "We've all been in a pinch, and it's nice to have someone watching your tail. Besides, what did you expect us to do? Leave you to die when you fell?" Bright Stream ducked her head, not knowing how to respond. "And… you're expecting, aren't you?"

Bright Stream looked up, astonished. "How—"

"I've had a few litters myself, and I've known and been around quite a few queens expecting and giving birth."

"But I'm barely—"

"Doesn't matter. Expecting queens smell different," explained Blossom, twitching her nose.

"Oh… Clear Sky…"

"Who's Clear Sky?" asked Blossom sensitively.

"He's my mate. Or was. I doubt I'll ever see him again," said Bright Stream, her delicate face twisted up in pain.

"Oh, you never know…"

"I do. We, my tribemates and I, we were traveling to a new home because our old home was too crowded," began Bright Stream. Blossom nodded appropriately, even though she didn't know the full extent or context. What she did know, however, was that this young cat needed to confront the past and then let it go. "And then… an eagle took me. They wouldn't have tried to follow me. I've seen cats get taken before, and no one follows them. The only reason I lived was because I jumped out of their nest. I thought it was better to die that way then getting… eaten."

"Very wise," complimented Blossom, even though she was a bit disturbed, but she didn't let on. They sat in silence for a few moments, before Blossom picked up the conversation again. "If you're going to have kits, you will need to fatten up a bit." She nudged the mice. Bright Stream gave a faint smile before digging in.

Later that day Blossom came into the cave with a wiry brown tom. "This is my mate, Slate," Blossom introduced. Slate ducked his head in greeting.

"Nice to meet you," mewed Bright Stream.

"And ya …?"

"Bright Stream. Thank you for finding me," said Bright Stream politely. Slate flicked his tail in dismissal.

"How're ya feeling?"

"Um… okay."

Slate smiled, as if he knew that she was very not okay. "Don't worry, we'll have ya in tip top shape soon enough." Just then all three adults were distracted by some giggling and snorting from where the light was coming from.

"Oi! I thought I told ya'll to stay out urntil I sayed so?!" yowled Slate yelled into the darkness. There was no sound for a moment, only to soon be broken by more giggles. "Kits! They drive me a-crazy!"

"Oh, love, come now. You don't mean that!" pouted Blossom.

"I do! This is our last bunch, Blossom!" and he stomped off to go find the kits.

"He says that after each litter," Blossom winked at Bright Stream, who was surprised to find herself almost giggling as well. "I do apologize, though. We didn't want to overwhelm you so we told the kits to stay out of this part of the barn until you were ready."

"Barn?"

"This thing," Blossom said vaguely, waving her tail around. "Technically, it's a sheep's barn, but they only visit a few times a year. Their fur is really soft," she nodded to the bedding Bright Stream was lying on.

"How many kits do you have?" Bright Stream asked curiously.

"Slate and I have two. Misty has three," answered Blossom warmly.

"… can I meet them?" asked Bright Stream shyly.

"Of course! But I have to warn you: they're a pawful!"

"I'm sure. But I think they might, you know, cheer me up," said Bright Stream; Blossom glowed, nodded, and padded out of the barn. A moment later, she came back in with five kits bouncing behind her, and Slate shuffling in after them. All five kits gathered about a tail-length away from Bright Stream, eyes wide as they took her in.

"She's pretty," a silver tabby whispered loudly. Bright Stream felt her face heat up.

"This is Rose and Hawthorn," introduced Blossom, placing her tail on a fluffy, cream-colored she-cat like herself and a stocky brown tom. They were perhaps a little bit younger than Jagged Peak. "They are Slate's and mine." She sent a glowing look to Slate, who gave her an exasperated smile in return. "This is Crystal," the silver tabby she-cat, "and Jangle, he's named after his father," a ginger and brown tom, "and this is Sage," a pale ginger tabby tom. This litter looked about a moon old.

"Hello, my name is Bright Stream," mewed the she-cat.

Jangle stepped forward and gave a sniff, "You smell funny."

"Jangle!" exclaimed Slate. "Whut did I just tell ya?" Jangle gave him a blank look, and Slate sighed. Bright Stream gave a little giggle.

"I come from the mountains," she explained. "I'm sure I smell different, because everything here smells different. Including you," and she swiped her tail across Jangle's nose. He jumped back, stunned, but then a slow smile crept across his face. He took a few steps forward and touch Bright Stream's nose.

"Is it true you flew down from the mountains?" asked Crystal.

Bright Stream looked up at Blossom, who twitched her ears. "… Yes, but I had a little trouble with the landing, as you can see." And she nodded towards her broken legs. "Not something I would recommend." The kits nodded in agreement.

"What was living in the mountains like?" asked Hawthorn.

"Clear. Everything was clear. You could see for miles. And we lived in a cave next to a water fall."

"What's a water fall?" asked Jangle quickly, almost afraid that the answers would run away.

"It's like a river… do you know what a river is?" Jangled shook his head. "A stream?" A nod from Hawthorn and Rose. "Okay, image a really big stream, like, as wide as this barn, and it falls from _way_ up there into a pool of water. That's a waterfall," explained Bright Stream. The kits' eyes were huge.

"What did you eat?" asked Crystal. "We eat mice and sometimes squirrels."

"I don't know what a squirrel is, but we mostly ate hares and eagles, and sometimes mice."

"You ate eagles?" asked Blossom this time.

"Yes, if you could get them." This time it was not only the kits that had wide eyes.

"Well," broke Blossom, interrupting the spell, "I'm going to go hunt."

"Aw, no Blossom, I think I should'a be the one to go huntin'…"

"You were hunting the past few days; it's your turn to stay here and watch the kits," contradicted Blossom.

"Um, I think I could watch them," intervened Bright Stream. Slate and Blossom looked at her in surprise. "I mean, I could entertain them at least, and if you wanted grown supervision…" she trailed off. _I probably sound ridiculous. A cat with two broken legs watch five kits?_

"That's a brilliant idea!" exclaimed Blossom, turning her head to Slate, who was nodding in agreement. "But are you sure you can manage? I'm sure you're probably still tired. And if there was an emergency—"

"I think I can move if I absolutely need to," answered Bright Stream.

"And we won't be too far," added Slate. "And Misty should be comin' back som-time soon."

"Well, I guess that's settled then! Thank you! We'll be able to get so much more prey now!" Bright Stream just nodded and flicked her tail.

Once Blossom and Slate left, the kits crowded up to Bright Stream, Rose and Sage even cuddling next to her belly. "Tell us more about the mountains, please!" requested Jangle.

Two moons had passed since Bright Stream had jumped from the cliff. Her belly was swollen with her unborn kits, and the rest of her was plump as she had ever been in her entire life. The barn and the area around offered much food. Bright Stream was now able to walk with a slight limp and caught her prey about fifty-percent of the time. Still, not bad for a cat who was starved and crippled two moons earlier. Now that she was nearing birthing, however, Blossom and Misty, and sometimes even Slate, kept bugging her about staying indoors and not stressing her body. She took their advice. They were better hunters than she was, anyways. Every day Blossom or Slate would take Rose and Hawthorn out hunting with them. They were becoming fine hunters, and Bright Stream was so proud of them. While the others were out hunting, she still looked after Jangle, Crystal, and Sage, who weren't quite old enough to go hunting, but old enough to want to, especially Jangle.

Sometimes Bright Stream would find a mouse in the barn. She would catch it, but not kill it. She would then let one of the kits stand on the opposite side of the big room in the barn as she let it go. They could then practice stalking their prey. The enjoyed this immensely. Over time, she began to realize that she enjoyed it too.

Bright Stream didn't know what would happen after she had her kits. She thought about when she was in the barn, watching over the kits take their naps. She had grown to love the barn and the cats that lived there. She had begun to see the kits as her kits, Blossom as her mother, Misty as her sister, and Slate as a grumpy, yet lovable elder. Obviously, she would have to wait until her kits grew up before she left to go anywhere. But where was anywhere? She could go back to the cave in the mountains – back home, if she could find it. Or she might try to find Clear Sky and the others, though she knew that their trail would be long gone. She could even go somewhere new, but she shuddered at that thought.

Sometimes Bright Stream felt bad for herself. She was ashamed to admit it even to herself. She never really even wanted to leave the mountains in the first place, but for Clear Sky's persistence. She sighed in remembering his dream: to find a safe place for them to be together to raise their kits. Well, part of it came true. She was in a safe place to raise their kits – just not together. She doubted – no, she knew – that he thought she was dead. There was no point in pretending otherwise.

"You're doing it again," said a voice from behind her. Bright Stream turned around to see Misty with a squirrel at her paws.

"Doing what?" asked Bright Stream, even though she knew the answer.

"Sighing. You're thinking about the past," meowed Misty bluntly.

"Okay, you caught me! But it's not like I don't catch you doing it either!"

"Too right," agreed Misty. The two she-cats touched noses. Both of them had hard pasts that ended with them expecting kits, with their father gone, and at the receiving end of the generous paw of Blossom and Slate. Misty's mate had fallen ill shortly after she knew she was expecting. In fact, most of the cats where Misty lived had fallen ill. The young silver she-cat had decided it was best to leave the area and live elsewhere. Forced to be a wanderer, she stumbled across the barn where Blossom and Slate lived. Blossom had just given birth, but the older couple took Misty in, saying that she could stay as long as she liked. A few moons later, Misty gave birth to Jangle, Crystal, and Sage, and that was that.

A half-moon passed, and it was a cool, spring night. Bright Stream had woken up for some reason. She was fully awake, but she didn't know what had woken her up. She gave a sniff and was alarmed to smell blood. She quickly stood up, and immediately realized it was her own blood. She gave a small cry as a wave of cramps clawed at her insides. She let out a blood-curling yowl.

In a few moments every cat that lived in the barn was at her side, determined to help her. She barely recognized that they had deducted that she was near her kitting time. The kits and Slate were shooed from the room, leaving just Misty and Blossom.

Bright Stream moaned in pain, praying for her mother, Clear Sky, Stoneteller, her ancestors, anyone to come and help her. She never thought it would be this hard. She spared a brief moment of respect for Blossom for doing this four times. She scarcely heard Misty's words of encouragement and Blossom's words of comfort.

After what seemed like hours, it was over. The pain had subsided, and she felt that there was nothing left in her belly. She shakily stood up and looked over at her kits. Misty did not say a word. Two of them, a gray tom and a brown she-cat, were still-born. Not a breath in their body. Her heart sank. After all of that effort, all of that time; after all of the love she had built up for her unborn kits, the love she had given Clear Sky; after the eagles, the broken legs, the recovery; after all the uncertainty, her kits were still-born. She looked up at Misty, and saw that there was joy mixed in with grief in her eyes. Confused, she looked to Blossom, who was bent over, furiously licking a light gray kit that had its mouth wide open in a silent mew.

Bright Stream let out a gasp. She stood up, aware of the weariness that drained her down – but none of that mattered any more. One of her kits was alive! She slowly padded over to her only kit, her daughter, who was light gray like Clear Sky, but had some white spots like herself. She gently plopped herself down next to her daughter. _My daughter…_ she said in her head. She took over licking from Blossom, and the elder she-cat stood back with Misty.

The little kit finally let out a cry, announcing its existence to the world. "I'm here," meowed Bright Stream. "I'm here, and I will never leave you." Her daughter nuzzled her way toward her belly and began to suckle.

Bright Stream looked up at Blossom and Misty, their faces full of joy, and that was when she realized: she was staying right here until the end of her days. It didn't matter that Tribe was somewhere in the mountains or that Clear Sky was off in new lands. There were cats, right here, that loved her and her new kit, and she loved all of them back.


End file.
